Within Shadows
by Christine Pierson
Summary: Crossover Underword. HPSS. As the world believes Harry Potter has died the light side is fighting a losing battle against Voldemort. But there're lots of secrets around and a prophecy claiming that 2 people in union have the power to stop the Dark Lord.
1. Default Chapter

Within Shadows 

By Christine Pierson

**Disclaimers:** The universe and characters of Harry Potter are not mine, they belong to JKR. Neither do I own any of the concepts of the movie Underworld. I do not intend to make any money with this story, it's purely for entertainment value.

**Author's note:** This is the first time I am writing a story in this fandom and also the first story after a long pause of writing. With this I have picked up an old tradition of my sister and me: giving each other stories as birthday presents. We have broken it off for some time because of being too much in university stress. So: HAPPY BIRTHDAY SIS!

**Thanks to:** My sister Cassandra Pierson for without her this story would have never been created much less posted here. I also wish to thank her for being my beta.

Chapter 1: The Mission

Glaring at the word in general, the people around him and especially the rutty, little pincher continuously trying to sniff up his leg, Severus Snape thundered down a street in the muggle city of Caen in France. After several useless tries of dislodging the pest in a civil way – walking faster, dodging and even shooing – it was still high on his heels, despite the now near desperate cries of its owner, an elderly lady, waving frantically several meters behind him.

Finally at the end of his almost non-existing patience he went on to a more effective of taking care of his problem. Whack. Snape watched with satisfaction as the yowling dog scurried away thanks to a well aimed kick with a metal capped boot. Perhaps there was even a tiny grain of truth in Voldemort's view of the world: Only inferior beings could keep such stupid creatures. Although thinking of the mangy rat the Weasley boys had owned – perhaps not. There was just no accounting for taste, be it in the muggle or wizarding community.

Looking ahead morosely he stifled the urge to rant at the powers to be for landing him in this situation. And the week had started out so well! No dreams about his 'Snakey Highness'. His spiteful mirror had for once refrained from commenting on his looks. Snape knew he wasn't a particular morning person but hearing every time he got up how absolutely loathsome he looked didn't improve his mood. And he couldn't get rid of that piece of junk either because it had been a present from the headmaster.

Then breakfast had arrived without a from happiness overflowing house-elf wanting to cheer him up. He had almost been in high spirits. Not even the arrival of the phoenix Fawkes bearing a letter from Dumbledore containing an invitation for tea could penetrate his absent gloom.

After a morning of fruitful experimentations in his lab – he had finally optimised the brewing procedure for the Wolfsbane potion - Snape had left the dungeons, almost humming a tune. Though as he reached Dumbledore's quarters he schooled his face back into his usual scowl. It simply wouldn't do to let anyone see him another way. He then knocked and entered without waiting for an answer.

Looking around Severus took in the outline of the room. It always differed from visit to visit, changing on its occupant's whims. Today it seemed rather small and dusty, which wasn't helped by the hundreds of books and trinkets stacked on shelves or lying around in disarray on the floor. The man himself was sitting behind an enormous oak desk almost hidden behind a pile of ancient looking tomes.

'Hello Severus, how was your day?' Dumbledore greeted him, looking up from the scroll he was reading. His eyes were twinkling in his patented devilishly – Snape had dubbed it – way.

'Fine,' the former Death Eater replied, while nodding his head. It was always a good advise to stick to short answers with the old wizard lest your words were turned around in your own mouth.

Putting the paper aside Dumbledore started to search his closer surrounding, leaving it in an even greater disorder. He finally procured a bowl of glass filled with yellow bonbons from under a floating quill-holder. Holding it out to Severus the expected follow-up arrived, 'Lemon drop?'

'Why yes, thank you,' Snape said and reached for one of the sweets. He had to suppress the smirk trying to steel itself on his face as the twinkle was shortly interrupted by an expression of utter astonishment. It would help him over many a lost 'discussions' between the two of them. It was even worth the gruesome taste that started to spread on his gums after popping the bonbon into his mouth. There were not many things that could surprise the headmaster but from time to time Snape managed to break through the old man's composure. Though these moments were always short-lived and too much time passed between them.

Getting up from behind his desk Dumbledore walked over to Severus and with a swish of his wand he transfigured the heavy wooden object into a tea table with two chairs. Another movement and 2 cups appeared out of thin air. 'Darjeeling, I presume,' he said and with glee Snape noticed the small note of insecurity in his voice.

As much as the Potions Teacher liked his opposite he treasured the clashing of wits. And he knew that Dumbledore enjoyed the challenge as well. Especially as in the end the old man would win, one way or another. But sometimes, like today, Snape would get him, upping his score to 23 against the headmaster's 249.

Sighing inwardly he shook his head. Snape just wasn't playing in the same league. But he didn't envy Dumbledore his life either. He could never do the things the other one had to face daily. Always in the eye of the public, no private life to speak of, responsibility for hundreds of people and having to make decisions that were essential for the continuing existence of the wizard and muggle world. No, he was definitely satisfied with just having an effect on his life, the few people around him and the one student or other.

'I think you have stirred your tea long enough now, Severus, especially as you didn't put any sugar in it.' The headmaster's voice startled him out of his reverie. Damn. The twinkle was back twice in size. 250. He should know better than to wool-gather in the headmaster's presence, he berated himself.

Changing the topic and stirring the attention away from his blunder the Potions Teacher lay down his spoon and asked, 'So, what is the reason for the meeting? Not just a mere social call, I presume.'

Intent on not making the same mistake a second time Severus Snape observed the other man, not missing the deep lines of worry that were now chiselled on Dumbledore's face. For a moment he looked really old, which in turn sent a peculiar feeling to Severus' guts.

'No, as much as one could wish, Merlin doesn't seem to grant us the time for that. It's harder than _ever_ now . . ' He sighed.

Silence hung in the air. _Ever_, or better 4 years because it had been 4 years now since the fateful day as the boy-who-lived had become the boy-who-died. He hadn't wished Harry to end like that. He hadn't wished for his death, period. The boy had been needed, if not for his skills then as an icon of hope for the wizarding world. A symbol that had died together with a bright and promising student.

Inwardly Snape had never disliked Harry. True, at first he had been blinded by the fact that he was Jame's son and treated him accordingly. But as term after term flew by he had glimpsed more and more of the kind soul behind the scar and his own behaviour had turned into an act. An act he had kept until that Hogsmead weekend. Oh, it had been an all too non-dramatic scene, the final death of the boy who had defied the reaper man time and time again. One would expect a great battle, heroics, hexes and curses flying around. But no, all it took was a fast acting poison and a Potions Master who had been too slow to come up with an antidote. He had set at the bedside of the comatose boy pouring out his heart, knowing that Harry would never be able to comprehend his words. He had stayed there as long as he had dared to leave his lab where the cure was being brewed – too late. He remembered quite clearly how Dumbledore had come into his room in the dungeons, face drawn, shaking his head. He had known what it meant at once. And for the first time in his life he had seen the headmaster fall apart. He didn't remember what happened afterwards, the next thing he could recall was that they were both weeping in each other's arms.

'Much harder than ever.' The words snapped the Potions Master back into the present. 'And that's why I have called you here. We must unite our forces if we want to win against Voldemort's increasing power. The agents of the Order of the Phoenix are not enough even with the recent help of the aurors. For that alone I can't say that I feel pity for Fudge's demise.'

A weary sigh interrupted the old man's narrative, while Snape nodded thoughtfully at the last statement. It had been quite some kind of irony that the former Minister of Magic had been killed by a terrorist attack of a squad of Death Eaters against the ministry building. Killed by the same people whose existence he had denied for so long. The man had been an idiot and his narrow point of view had cost them their greatest advantage: the right time to fight, before Voldemort had gained all of his former power. At least the new Minister of Magic, Arthur Weasley, had more foresight. His first act after being elected had been to mobilize the aurors and organize a cooperation with the Order.

'The war has already spilled over to the other countries of Europe and there are rumours of some activities in America. People of different nations live in fear of being the next victims of Voldemort's lackeys. Arthur has already started to negotiate with most of Europe's ministers and there's information exchange as well as teamwork between the governments' strike forces. But still we are losing more people than the other side, and not all of them as casualties.'

Again Severus Snape agreed with the other's assessment. A lot of wizards and witches were changing sides, not because of actually believing Voldemort's lies but for safety reasons. Especially those with families would do everything to keep their loved one's out of harm's way, even if it meant to go against their conscience.

'This leads me to why I called you here. I want us to establish contact with the other nation's covert ops groups. And I have chosen you as our representative to go to France. We have already established contact with their equivalent of the Order of the Phoenix, the Croc de Lion, or Lion's Fang, and they have provided us with knowledge of a group of individuals that could help us with our cause. They are actually splinter-group of their order. I want you to go to Caen, a small city in the north of France where they are allegedly located and win them over.'

Snape had to blink, took a breath, then blinked again. That had been a lot of information – and up to point – from the man who normally used to talk in riddles. A sure sign of how dire the situation was. Ordering his thoughts he again went through the monologue. Of course the Potions Professor had been aware of the official inter-nation-anti-Voldemort movement. It had been discussed at full length at the last Order's meeting. But this secret organization network was new and he had never seen himself involved in those matters anyway. He was an undercover spy, not an operative.

Voicing his doubts he replied, 'But what of my position in Voldemort's inner circle?'

An almost defeated expression crossed Dumbledore's face, giving the man a touch of frailness that sent chills down Snape's spine and at the same time stroke a protective streak deep within his heart.

'When was the last time you brought home any useful information?' he asked, locking eyes with Severus.

Snape's heart almost missed a beat as the wheels in his head started to spin at high speed. He knew at what the headmaster was playing at. The idea had crossed his mind as well but he had dismissed it as his usual pessimism. Though when even Dumbledore had noticed . . .

'He knows, doesn't he?' his own voice sounded hollow in his ears.

'I fear so my child. At least he strongly suspects you to spy for me. But he still seems to see you as useful, as long as nothing of importance gets to you in his court you are no threat to him. You surely must have come to the same conclusions.'

Leaving the end of the sentence hanging in the air he took a sip of his tea and reached for a cookie, a plate of which had magically appeared during their talk. Absently Snape followed his example, his mind still reeling from the confirmation of one of his worst fears. So much work, hardships and time down the drain. He was suddenly left with nothing, the ground having dropped away from under his feet. His usefulness had finally expired and the only thing that repeated itself in his head was, well fuck.

With the intake of sugar some of the cheerfulness had come back to the headmaster because a patronizing smile was directed at Severus. 'Don't beat yourself up, my child. You are still a valuable member of the Order. You're one of the brightest people I know, able to adapt to any situation and a Potions Master to boot. One of those qualities you would think enough in every other person. You were always stricter with yourself than anybody else.'

The words had broken Snape's thoughts out of their loop. As always the headmaster had read him perfectly right. Damn, he just knew him too well. Him and the rest of the wizarding world, Severus conceded. Just how was he able to do that? Surely he couldn't be telepathic. There had to be some kind of trick, or perhaps a spell ...

Realizing that he had watched Dumbledore's pet phoenix grooming his feathers while thinking for the last few minutes Severus fixed the headmaster once more and was astounded at the change that had come over the man. No longer was any of the worry visible in his composure, which made him look younger for at least 10 or 100 years. It was really hard not to like the wily old wizard.

This was not the time for contemplations or self repercussions. As the headmaster had stated he had other talents and now a new mission. But it wasn't easy to let the past go. Most of his life had been devoted to infiltrate Voldemort's court. It felt strange to have other duties all of a sudden.

Though he was a pragmatist and as such he'd move on. 'So I will go to Caen. Who'll provide me with the necessary information and is there any person I can get in contact with when I have arrived?'

Beaming like ten dragon's fires the twinkle returned to Dumbledore's eyes. Oh, oh. He wouldn't like the answer. No, Severus Snape wouldn't like it at all. 'Well, actually there'll be 2 old acquaintances of yours. Hermione Granger will fill you in and Ronald Weasley will be your contact. He'll be staying in Paris. They are engaged now, did you know that? Who would have thought? They always seemed to quarrel.'

Drowning out the rest of the headmaster's chit chat Snape repressed a sigh. He could live with the Granger girl, bright young witch that she was, just a little bit on the bossy side. But Weasley? That was one catastrophe waiting to happen. He really hoped one year of auror training had managed to stamp out the boy's foolish behaviour. He needed someone thinking with his actual brain, not his stomach or hormones.


	2. chapter2

Chapter 2: Talk and Tea

'And have a nice day, Severus!' Dumbledore watched the retreating form of one Potions Master, black robes billowing behind said person. As the door closed his carefree smile morphed into a somewhat sombre expression. He loved his job and wouldn't even think of burdening anyone else with his duties but sometimes even he whished for a break. He knew he did everything in his powers to ensure the war ended as quickly and bloodless as possible but was it enough? Or was there another, better way to lead to victory, one he had overlooked? Perhaps, though they'd chosen their path to which they had to stick now. Too much depended on it, not to speak of the sacrifices made or the lives already lost to see it through. Dwelling on the past, he was definitely growing old.

'Everything will be fine, you'll see and you're not turning into a tottering fool.' A voice spoke in dry humour just a few steps behind him. He turned around facing a stern looking woman standing beside the multicoloured window of his office where only seconds before there'd been empty space.

'Ah, Minerva, am I that easy to read?' he asked her fondly.

'Not at all my dear headmaster. I just know you too well. By the way, you should really rest more or you will become what you're dreading.' A tight lipped smile took some of the strictness away from her face. She stepped closer, resting one hand at the back of his chair, without losing eye contact.

'I know. It's just that sometimes I start wondering.' He broke off, his gaze losing all focus, his mind falling into a state of blankness.

'As do we all, as do we all', Minerva McGonagall replied. 'But now that we have set the _last step_ in motion, there is no turning back.' The words _last step_ were spoken with a hint of distaste, which was not lost on Dumbledore.

'Are you still miffed that the final part of our plan is based on Sybill Trelawney?' he asked with a raised brow, knowing the answer even before she began to talk.

'Of course! The woman is a fraud!' Now there was definite despise in Minerva's voice. Leaving her vigil position at the headmaster's chair she began to pace the room, upsetting the phoenix that was still held up with cleaning his feathery dress.

'But a fraud with her two or three moments of clarity and true seeing. Why else would I have hired her?' Amusement accompanied his rhetoric question.

Snorting, Minerva didn't even pause in her stride. 'Well, it would help if said person was not so full of herself. But you are right. Her _real_ predictions – which she can't even remember by the way – always come true.'

'Alas, so it will be this time,' he paused before adding totally out of context, 'Now can I interest you in a cup of coffee?' Dumbledore beamed at her disarmingly, while making Severus' cup disappear only to be replaced by a steaming mug of a Peruvian blend.

Rolling her eyes she shook her head, 'You're incorrigible, you know that?'

'Why yes! That's my charm.'


	3. chapter3

Chapter 3: Strange Encounter

Almost snarling with frustration Severus Snape threw the traffic light a look of utter contempt. How many of those could one city have and what was the probability of every one of them being red when he got there? He loathed Caen and not only because of the meagre mission briefing he had been subjected to.

The Granger girl who always seemed to be a fountain of knowledge had for once been of no great help. All she had told him was the name of a man who could know someone in contact with the Claw of the Lion, said splinter-group of the Croc de Lion. At least she had provided him with a hotel to stay, a map of the city – which he had of course memorized by now – and a handy spell that would enable him to understand and speak French. But apart from that he was on his own with instructions only to contact Ronald Weasley every second day to report his progress.

Progress, Severus snorted. What progress? So far he had just found his contact, Michel, and managed to set up a meeting. And this had been no easy feat because the man, a squib as it turned out, preferred to live in the muggle world. He was hardly ever at home, spending most of his time working at the university's chemistry department or teaching children. This was the only redeeming quality Snape could find with him as it was close to his own chosen profession. Well, he had finally – after 10 unsuccessful attempts – managed to reach him on his cell phone and he'd been told to go to the market at the channel of the river Orne flowing through Caen on Sunday morning. There he should wait at a stand that sold clocks.

Leaving behind the now green traffic light he turned around a corner and was greeted by an enormous castle. Nodding, while reading the signs that said Chateau Ducal he congratulated himself for having taken the right direction. Now he just had to turn left, then right and the market should be – there. His mood was sinking a few further degrees, reaching the sub-zero region. The place was huge. Stands as far as you could see and everywhere people bustling around. How in all nine hells should he find the one that sold clocks?

Mentally going through a litany of curses he immersed himself into the slowly forward flowing crowd. Well, he still had half an hour until the meeting. Enough time to try to find the place by himself. It simply was beneath his dignity to ask a muggle for help. Especially for something as banal as directions.

Exactly 35 minutes later Snape had finally managed to locate the damn stand and was greeted by a sturdy, hard-faced man with tousled black hair that already had a tinge of silver, 'You are late.'

In retrospect Severus would think it a wonder that the people around him didn't seem to notice the steam blowing out of his ears. It sure as hell felt like his head had been transfigured into a kettle. But in the last second his professionalism won over his temper. He couldn't risk offending the man, not if he didn't want to fail his mission. And Severus Snape didn't fail. Anything.

So Severus simply fixed the other man, refraining from replying. He was astonished as the man before him suddenly broke out into hoarse laughter. The Potions Master threw him a quizzical look, that was answered with a smirk, 'Don't take me seriously, no one's ever on time here. But you should have seen your face. It was hilarious.'

He was still grinning from ear to ear as a lounged for Snape's arm and started to drag the miffed man with him. 'There is this friend of mine here who sells really good cider. You sure could use something to loosen you up a little, you know. A bow sting's nothing compared to the way you move.'

Snape was speechless. How dare that mongrel treat him like that? Didn't he know the concepts of respect or at least manners? So caught up in his self-righteous furore was he that he didn't even protest against being led through the market by the object of his anger. The next thing he was consciously aware of was a glass of the alcoholic apple-brewage being thrust into his hand.

Taking a deep swallow Snape managed to battle down his emotions. Damn it, he was a professional after all. And now all it took was an ill placed comment to send him off. That was so not him. He blamed his fried nerves on the constant tension he had been in since arriving in France.

After composing himself and vowing to stay calm in the future Severus addressed the other one for the first time, 'So can you help me?'

The merry expression on Michel's face turned serious again. 'Yes. I know a friend who knows a friend. . . ' The man trailed off as the Potions Master threw him a glare, which could still be counted as _staying calm_ in Snape terms, he quickly argued with his inner self. 'Well, let's say I can arrange a meeting with the people you want to get to know.'

The rest of what the squib said was lost on Snape as a figure before him caught his attention: a lean body clad in tight jeans and a deep green t-shirt that clung to a muscular torso. Definitely male. On top there was a mop of shoulder length ebony hair that someone had unsuccessfully tried to tame by tying it back with a silver-red hair band. Nice. Severus unconsciously licked his lips. He seemed familiar but somehow he couldn't place him. Watching the young man, who he thought not to be much over twenty, he followed his progress down the line of people walking away.

Severus wished he'd turn around so that he could see the stranger's face. Perhaps then he'd remember where he had met him before. As if the other had read his thoughts he circled his head. Time seemed to move in slow motion. Then their eyes met. Emerald. It couldn't be! A lightning shock swept through Snape's body. Peripherally he was aware that the other's expression seemed equally out of sorts but was quickly schooled back into a neutral mask. Then the young man turned around again and immediately was swallowed up by the crowd.

The whole encounter couldn't have lasted more than a second or two but for Snape it had been half an eternity, the sight forever burned into his mind. He had looked so much like Harry, but Harry was dead. He had been at his funeral. And there had been no scar. No blemish whatsoever on the stranger's temple. It simply couldn't be.

'Hey, are you listening to me at all?' an annoyed voice seemed to come from far, far away, waking him.

'Yes, yes. I just thought I saw someone I knew once,' Snape mumbled his eyes still trained on the spot where the man had vanished.


	4. chapter4

Chapter 4: Musings

Weaving through a throng of moving people a very confused and not just a little irritated young man made his way forward. His progress was astonishingly fast considering the number of persons around, especially as he avoided colliding with a single one. It spoke volumes of his quick reflexes, a quality that marked a good fighter – or seeker.

But his mind was far from his displayed abilities. It was lingering on the unexpected meeting only minutes ago.

What the hell is HE doing here? Shouldn't he be at Hogwarts or something? he thought, still seeing the other man before his inner eyes.

A shiver ran down his spine leaving a trail of goose bumps in its wake as he recalled the fierce intensity of that moment. It had been electrifying - for lack of a better word. Time had seemed to have ceased its flow as their gazes had met, only to rush back with double speed as he had made out an expression of recognition on the other's face. It had been the equivalent of a cold shower, letting him turn around to almost flee the scene instantly.

The whole thing was Bad with a capital B. They were so close to the finishing stage of the Plan that he didn't like such surprises. Didn't like? DIDN'T LIKE? He winced at the almost hysterical tone of his mental voice. That was the understatement of the year! Couldn't his brain come up with a more accurate phrase for this dilemma?

But there seemed to be a barrier that kept all the curses he had learned over the years – and that were quite a few - in check. With guilt he admitted to himself that the probable reason for his lack of cussing was that he had enjoyed the encounter. At least he would have enjoyed it under other circumstances. It had simply been too long since he had seen a familiar face. That's why he was thrilled to see one now, even if it was just Severus Snape.

Actually he didn't despise the Potions Master any more. True, at first he had loathed the man for always picking on him and his friends. But after his secret departure from Hogwarts and the ensuing solitude he had had time to think. And think he did a lot. About himself, his position in the wizarding world, his friends and other people around him. It had made him grow up in a way that would have been impossible had he stayed home.

In his now broader view of the world Severus Snape's behaviour had even helped him survive those last few years. He couldn't recall how often he had come close to the brink of nothingness only to be whisked back by a sarcastic voice in his head that had suspiciously sounded like his Potions Teacher at Hogwarts. _Giving up already? Pathetic. I knew you were nothing more than a spoilt little brat, breaking at the first instances of hardship._

Grinning madly he decided to thank the man for his encouragements sometimes in the future. With a camera handy. He would give quite a sum of money to see Severus Snape react to that one. Definitely worth the bodily harm that could result on his part. That is, if he survived the battle.

Shaking his head he banished the thought into the recesses of his mind. There was no time for musings now. Concentrating he started to plan his next step. He couldn't simply walk away as if nothing had happened. Too much was at stake for that. He had to somehow deal with it. And in order to do that he needed more information, which in the end led him to contacting someone. Again not good - but necessary.

He sighed and quickened his pace. Why did his life have to be so complicated? Had he been a murderer in his past life so that some deity had decided to punish him in this one? He sure couldn't remember doing something that awful this time around warranting all the trouble he had to go trough. He just wanted to live in peace.

And if you are lucky, you will soon, he reminded himself. Yes, soon it would be over, one way or another.

He turned around a corner and came to an abrupt halt thus narrowly avoiding running into a young woman.

'Whoa, Ray. Give my poor heart a chance!' she exclaimed clutching her right hand theatrically over her heart, although the smile in her soft brown-green eyes betrayed her amusement.

'Hiya, Becky! How are you?' he answered, while giving the lithe figure in front of him a friendly hug.

'Fine, fine!' she replied while playing with a strand of her shoulder length mahogany hair. 'A few friends and I are going to Riva Bella today, sunbathing and swimming in the sea. You wanna come?' she beamed at him.

'I am sorry. Something came up and there are a few things I have to do,' he told her with regret. He liked the friendly, sometimes childish young woman who had the knack of being there and cheering him up when he needed it the most.

'Awww. It's always work with you. You have to relax Ray, don't be so serious all the time!' she pouted.

'I'll try for you, favourite neighbour of mine.' He smiled at her. 'And have a nice day!'

'That I will. You too. Cya!' Waving she turned around and walked away with a bounce in her step, whistling the melody of _A Ray of Sunshine_.

He watched her fondly for a moment before continuing his way towards his flat on the other end of the street. A short time later he was standing in front of a door, keys in hand. A black sign inscribed with white letter marked it as the entrance to the residence of one _Ray Corvin_. Entering he thought that he liked the name although it probably was not the best fit for its owner.

Without bothering to remove his shoes he walked through the hall into the living room where he produced - seemingly out of nowhere - a small stick of wood. Pointing it at a picture on the wall he mumbled the word, 'Abre.'[1]

The picture swung open, revealing a tiny hole behind it. He reached into it and removed four pendants made of silver, laying them out on the low table in front of the couch occupying the other side of the room.

Their design was of Celtic nature. There was a single wide spiral, an artfully woven knot contained within a circle, a broad solar cross and a pentacle. Slowly he let his right hand circle over the first and the second, before hovering a little over the third until finally deciding on the fourth.

Stroking it carefully he lifted the pentacle, hanging it over his head. Clutching the pendant to his chest, he said one word into the empty space of the room, 'Hermione.'

[1] _Abre_ is actually _Open_ in Spanish.


	5. chapter5

Chapter 5: The Prophecy

'_Hermione.'_

As soon as he had finished the pentacle started to glow, first dimly then with ever increasing intensity until all of a sudden it fell dormant again.

Silence followed leaving the faint rhythmic beat of his heart seem almost too loud for his own ears. Nervously he started tapping his right foot on the floor while waiting patiently for something to happen. Seconds ticked by stretching into minutes. He was on the verge of releasing the pendant as out of nowhere a disembodied female voice asked, 'First Wizard Zeddicus Zu'l Zorander?'

Relieved he answered, 'Toasted toads truth.' [1]

'It's you! How are you? Did something happen? Are you hurt? Is ...' As one question chased after the other an involuntary smile stole itself on his face. It was so her, being a busybody. And he loved her for it. In a strictly friendly way, that was. Just hearing her voice helped to calm him down and soothe away most of his worries. Because if she was talking to him, it meant that she was safe.

But there was a reason he had called and so he interrupted his friend's tirade. 'Mione! I am ok. And yes something did happen. Otherwise I wouldn't have called you.' They had agreed to only communicate when it was absolutely necessary, a pact he tended to keep. It was after all for their own safety.

The pendants they used to keep in contact had been his idea. In a way he had to thank his cousin for their invention. Because if his too-fat-for-his-own-good relative hadn't gotten walkie-talkies for his sixth birthday he himself wouldn't have thought of creating them. Like the muggle version they allowed communication between a matched pair. They were also enchanted to be bug-proof, which made them securer than fire-talking. Even though, they kept the numbers of calls to a minimum. No need to challenge fate. After everything that had happened to him and the others, they tended to go with the proverb: better safe than sorry. They'd even started to use code phrases in order to know if the other could talk freely.

But that didn't mean he had to like it. The prolonged silence was pure torture for himself. He hated not to know about his friends' whereabouts or if they were fine. In his nightmares he saw them being attacked by the Dark Lord and him sitting here without being even aware of the danger.

He awaited each call anxiously, only to shy back from answering if it finally came. He couldn't live with being told that one of his comrades had been killed while he had been out of reach. He loathed to have to stay too far away to protect them.

The room felt suddenly too cold for his liking. So he was glad to hear Hermione talking again, effectively chasing away the dark shadows creeping into his mind.

'I was only glad to hear from you again. It's been too long. We are missing you. And before you ask: we're all fine as well and everything's going according to plan. Oh, and there's something I have to tell you as well. But it's not of immediate importance. At least I don't think so.' The words seemed to tumble out of her mouth, not even stopping for her to take a breath in between.

'Well, you can go first.' He teased her, knowing fully well that she was bursting to hear his news. But there was still a lingering feeling of dread. He so wished he could stay with them, even if the logical part of his brain told him that they were safer with him far, far away.

'Harold James Potter! Do tell!' Her indignation was clearly audible.

'Fine, fine.' He sighed banishing all thoughts of worry for his friends out of his mind. He just whished that he could give her happier news. 'I was recognized today.'

'WHAT? That's impossible! No one should be able to do that! You are under the Fidelius charm! Not even I am aware of your location.'

'I know! Without my aecret keeper's approval nobody should be able to see me even if I were standing right next to them!' Unable to sit any longer Harry sprang up form the coach and began pacing the room. It should have been impossible. So why had the Potions Master recognized him? The wheels in his head were spinning furiously but the answer eluded him.

'Who was it?' she asked after a small pause.

'Snape of all people,' he mumbled under his breath, only the need to hold the pendant keeping him from throwing his arms up into the air.

'Snape? Oh my.' Her voice sounded strangely squeaky.

Alarmed he asked, 'What is it?'

'Well, I think this could be related to what I found out. It would probably explain it.' She trailed off.

Stopping in mid-stride he lamented the fact that they didn't have visual contact. He would have loved to glare at her.

'I want you to listen to me and then tell me what you think about it. The other day I went to Hogwarts because I had a meeting with Professor McGonagall. As I was waiting in her office I noticed a sheet of parchment lying on her desk. I had nothing else to do and so -'

He could practically _hear_ the blush. 'You read it.'

'It was a prophecy.'

Harry's brow furrowed. He hated prophecies. They were nothing but trouble. Either you didn't understand their real meaning until they happened and it was too late or they were completely useless.

Hermione cleared her voice.

'And on the eve of battle

Two lonely souls shall meet.

The first of them a master

With skills of many arts

His past defined by darkness

Etched as symbol on his skin.

The other one a fighter

Baptized through gloried death

Reborn to life in shadows

Three times his former self.

So joined they will determine

The fate of our world.

What do you think?'

She intoned, with the last sentence going back to her normal tone of voice.

Thinking it over he shook his head. It couldn't be. Nope, not in a hundred years. He must have misunderstood. Snape and HIM? No. Repeating the prophecy again line for line in his head, the wrinkles on his forehead increased. No mistake there. Shocked he sat down again. Why the hell HIM?

'I'll be damned!' he finally exclaimed aloud.

'That's what Ron said as well.' She chuckled. 'But I wouldn't worry too much about it. You know my opinion of I divination /I . It's all a waste of time, complete humbug. Everyone of us is after all having a vital part in the destruction of Voldemort, so it's kind of stupid to predict specific persons being in the centre of it. And for the rest, it's pretty vague.'

Harry sighed. Thank Merlin for Hermione's down to earth attitude. He had probably overreacted. The prophecy primary meant for the two of them to play a part in Voldemort's downfall. And if they had to work together to reach that goal, that was okay with him. Everything else was not worth considering as it would definitely not happen without his consent.

Discontinuing that line of thought he went back to their conversation. 'Of course you are right. There are a lot of more important things. One of them's Snape. What are we going to do with him? He is not a threat per se as he is on our side. But what if he's caught as a spy? We can't risk him giving away the fact that I am not dead.'

A shriek of surprise could be heard in the background. 'Oh, you don't know yet? Dumbledore didn't tell you?'

'No! Know what?' How was it possible for the man to always annoy him? Either he talked in riddles or he was neglecting some details he himself would see as crucial.

A few seconds passed before she answered, 'The headmaster thinks that Voldemort suspects Snape already. That's why he pulled him away form his position and sent him on a mission to France. He has to get in contact with the Claw of the Lion. But now I am not so sure any more if this whole thing was only a pretext to send the professor your way. No, probably not just a pretext. Dumbledore wouldn't risk such a valuable position for the sake of a prophecy.'

'Mione! Stop!' Harry desperately tried to quench her ramblings. It could get quite scary if his friend voiced her thought process out aloud.

'Oh, I am so sorry Harry! I even did the mission briefing. It's all my fault.' she cried out. The full consequences of what had happened finally hit home.

'Hermione, calm down. Of course it's not your fault. You couldn't have known that I was in Caen. My secret keeper's the only one informed of my whereabouts. At least they were - before this mess,' he concluded darkly. When would they finally learn that he had grown up and could be trusted with everything concerning his own person? They knew he hated their meddling!

'What are you going to do now?' Hermione asked, finally having calmed down again.

'I don't know yet. First of all I am going to make another call. I am really interested in my dear secret keeper's explanation of this,' he growled, while cursing stupid prophecies in his head.

'You do that and I will see what I can do from my side. Take care, Harry!' Her last words were laced with concern.

'I will', he said gently. 'And tell Ron hi from me!'

'Of course!'

The pendant in Harry's hand glowed once more before winking out. He laid it back on the table only to reach for another. The solar cross.

[1] It's related to Terry Goodkind's Sword of Truth novels. They are really good books.


	6. chapter6

Chapter 6: Secret Keeper

Minerva McGonagall was sitting at the desk of her study and trying in vain to concentrate on the pile of uncorrected scrolls in front of her. Reading over the last sentence for the tenth time she finally tipped her quill into the red ink beside her and scribbled a note at the end of the paper, before laying it away with a disgusted grunt. One would think every pupil of Hogwarts knew how to turn a toothpick into a needle by now. How a fourth year could butch up such an easy assignment was quite beyond her.

Perhaps they are doing it intentionally in order to try my patience, she thought. At least the Transfiguration Professor hoped so, because otherwise she was seeing pitch black for some to manage to get their OWLS not to speak of their NEWTS later on.

Reaching wearily for the next scroll, she was interrupted by a ringing sound. Retracting her movement she sighed. Minerva had waited for that moment some time now but still she didn't feel ready for what was to come. She took a few deep breaths before pulling out a pendant from under her robes. It depicted a Celtic triquetra, consisting of three interlocked half-circles. It was also bathed in a warm orange light. She laid it out on her right palm before carefully closing her fingers around the piece of jewellery. It felt warm to her touch.

Closing her eyes she spoke, frowning at the silliness of her code phrase. 'Ranma, you pervert!'

'Akane, you tomboy!' was the immediate follow up. [1]

'Hello Harry! To what do I owe the honour of your call?' Minerva asked, trying to keep the trepidation out of her voice.

'As if you wouldn't know,' came the angry reply. 'You let Snape find me! Without asking! What part of _secret_ keeper didn't you understand?'

The Transfiguration Professor winced. The whole situation didn't sit well with her at all, especially as she thought that her former pupil was right with his accusations. She recalled having had a similar discussion with the headmaster a short time ago. Minerva had argued to tell Harry about the prophecy and their intentions. Especially after the mess that resulted in Sirius Black's death the last time. He had a right to know. It was about his life after all and he wasn't a small child any more whom you had to protect for his own good. No, he had grown up. Much too early for her taste.

Minerva could still remember the day she had first laid eyes on the boy at the beginning of his first year at Hogwarts, 10 years after seeing him brought to the Dursleys. He had been anxious, with eyes wide of wonder at the magic everywhere around him. But those times were long over. He was an equal now for her and as such she hated the whole secrecy.

Though the headmaster had been adamant in not informing him. He had said that too much was at risk and that he was afraid of gaining Harry's cooperation in the light of his difficulties with the Potions Master in the past.

Minerva snorted. Albus should know better than that. Harry would never let an old grudge get in the way of Voldemort's fall, he lived for that purpose! And Severus was too much of a professional, not to speak of what was on stake for himself if the dark wizard was not defeated.

And now it was on her to clean up the whole mess. Life was not easy.

'We thought the situation wouldn't warrant the risk of a call.' Lame, Minerva, lame, she chastised herself.

'Bullshit. You just didn't want to give me the chance to say no.'

'It was a distant possibility,' she defended herself. 'But you two would make a wonderful team. He could help you.' That at least was the truth. If the two managed to cast their differences aside they'd be a force to be reckoned with, not that they weren't on their own already.

'Oh, really? And the idea just popped up in your head? It wouldn't be at all related to one tiny prophecy you neglected to mention to me _again_?' The sarcasm was hanging so thick in the air that you could almost cut it with a knife.

At least one thing had gone according to her plan. Minerva sighed with relieve. Well, Dumbledore had ordered her not to _tell_ them about the prophecy. If they found out another way . . .

Aloud she asked, 'Which prophecy?'

'The one where Snape and I are going to save the world. You know, you should be more careful letting such things lie around. Everyone could break into your office and read it,' he snapped at her.

Minerva was glad that they weren't in the same room just now. If so, she would have had to seriously worry about her health. She had been careful. The Transfiguration Professor had spelled the parchment so that no one but Hermione could read it. She was after all a woman who took no unnecessary risks, especially not with such sensitive material. But there was no need to disclose that detail right now.

'Perhaps a little bit,' she finally admitted.

'A little you say? Just a little? I am an adult. I want to be informed about facts like that! And what about Snape? You didn't tell him anything either, didn't you! By Merlin's beard, the man has worked for you for how many years? You can't play with the lives of others like that!' He was in a full blown rant.

Minerva listened with an outwardly calm expression. Though inwardly she agreed with everything the younger man said. She could understand his feelings. In his stead she probably would have reacted the same. She just hoped that Albus didn't have anything in store for herself.

'I am sorry.'

'You should be. And for your information: I am not going to walk up front to Snape and start working together with him,' he groused.

She had anticipated that reaction. But she also knew that now, after the ball had started rolling, it wouldn't simply stop again. Not where Harry was concerned. He was a magnet for strange occurrences.

'Just think a little over it, will you?'

There was a pause before he answered, considerably calmed down, 'Of course I will. This is not something simply swept under the carpet.' He sighed. 'I have another question for you. Hermione told me that you sent Snape on this assignment because Voldemort suspects him to be a traitor. Is it true? Don't lie to me this time.' His voice wasn't raised any more but there was a definite threat in the last sentence, one that spoke of broken trust if not answered correctly.

Nevertheless Minerva was glad about the question. It showed that Harry actually cared for Severus, at least a little. 'Yes, it is. And it's also another reason we want you to work together. Professor Snape has left Voldemort's circle but he still has the mark. He can be hurt through it. Not killed, but seriously hurt.' She was now appealing to Harry's heart and good nature. Though it was an unfair manipulation and she loathed having to do it to Harry, it was for both men's safety. She just hoped that if everything was over the end would justify the means.

'I will take it under consideration. I have to go now. Any other things you forgot to tell me?'

'No, that's all. Keep safe, Harry. And please remember, we only want the best for you.'

'I know, that's why it hurts when you do meddle with my life. Good bye.'

With that the light around the pendant faded, leaving it in his dormant, silver colour. It was over. Relieved she put it away, her gaze falling onto the stack of scrolls. She grimaced. No, what she needed right now was a good hot cup of coffee. She had earned it.

[1] It's related to one of my favourite mangas, Ranma ½.

If you are interested in the pendants:

**Pentacle (Hermione):** Also Wizard's Star, Star of Bethlehem, Three King's Star, or Druid's Foot. It's a symbol of protection and used as magical charm within many ancient cultures. It's a sign for life and health and represents the five elements (earth, air, fire, water, and spirit), or the five stages of Life (birth, youth, adulthood, old age, and death).

**Solar Cross (McGonagall):** It is a symbol for the four quarters: the North, which represents wisdom, stability, and winter; the East, for knowledge, learning, and spring; the South for vitality, passion, strength, and summer; and the West, representing intuition, emotion, and inner knowledge.

**Triquetra (Harry):** Also triqueta. It is a Celtic symbol of the triple Goddess, or a symbol of the god Odin. In Wiccan and Neopagan belief, the triqueta symbolizes the triple aspected goddess (maid, mother, and crone). It is also considered to represent the triplicities of mind, body, and soul, as well as the three domains of earth- earth, sea, and sky.

**Knot within Circle (Dumbledore):** The Celtic knot symbolizes the "Thread of Life". The interlaced, or latticed, knotwork patterns, with their unbroken lines, symbolize the process of humankind's eternal spiritual evolution. When the cord is unravelled, it leads us on our journey.

The circle symbolizes unity and the eternal cycle of life and rebirth.

**Spiral (Ron):** It has symbolized the concept of growth, expansion, and cosmic energy, depending on the culture in which it is used.

Eventually: **Maze (Snape):** The main point about a maze is that there's a choice. All along the way there are choices. In opposite the only choice a labyrinth gives you is if you want to go in or not.


	7. chapter7

Chapter 7: The Rescue

Sliding forward Harry melted into the shadow of the next tree along the path. He had become quite proficient in hiding from the sight of unwanted eyes those last few years. Living in twilight had become second nature to him. He had mastered the art of blending into crowds, of merging with the background of his surrounding and so - if necessary - fading from everyone's notice.

He was equally good at tracking. Once Harry had found a trail, nothing could keep him from following. And to be completely honest, like every predator, he loved the hunt. It was in his blood: the exhilaration of knowing the prey was in front of you, scarcely outside your reach but still close enough to move in whenever you decided to end it. The feeling of taut muscles, ready to jump at a moment's notice. It was intoxicating.

And never before more so than now. The air around him was filled with the thickly sweet scent of his prey, sandalwood combined with sweat and a deep musky odour that almost drove him to a frenzy.

Shocked at the way his thoughts were taking Harry pressed himself hard against the cool bark of the oak tree he was currently hiding behind. He was so not interested in the smell of that man. Not at all. He was just following Snape to make sure he was okay. Coursing at his more animalistic traits he almost missed said Potions Professor moving on.

Harry had trailed the man for a little more than a week, starting shortly after their first encounter at the market. He had later learned about Michel and Snape's reason to be there from his friend Ron. Now that the initial contact with the Claw of the Lion had been made, progress for the professor was fast. He had had meetings every other day, working his way up in the chain of command, finally culminating in today's where he would be let to their archon.

It was just Harry's luck that it had to be now of all days. And predictably the meeting couldn't have taken place at some godly hour. No, it had to be at night. The night of the full moon.

Letting out a silent growl that sounded suspiciously like a snarl he followed Snape deeper into the park. He hated this particular night. It wasn't that he lost complete control over his senses although it was often hard to rain in his predatory urges. No, it was the feeling of helplessness he loathed. At this time of the month his magical powers were all but gone, leaving him not much above the level of a squib. It was bothersome, especially as he had started to sorely rely on his magic during his years at Hogwarts. Like every wizard he had begun to depend on spells and charms freely at his disposal. But the loss was a price to be paid and it was a small one for being allowed to remain in the world of the living.

Harry threw the yellow globe in the sky that started to shine brighter the farther night approached a dirty look. It really grated on Harry's nerves that the most important part of the mission fell on the night of the full moon. He just hoped that nothing would happen because he sure as hell wouldn't be able to magic them out of it. He was useless, a fact which he couldn't stand.

It was getting darker by the minute, which posed no problem for Harry. He could see better in pitch blackness than in the light of the day. But he noticed that it was troubling Snape. He watched as the man got out his wand and illuminated his surrounding with a, 'Lumos.'

His wand-end now alight the Potions Professor left the asphalted main walk and entered a wooden area along a narrow path leading up a hill. Staying out of sight Harry followed the faint, almost non existent noises of Snape's progress. He admired the man's stealth though it was no match for his superior sense of hearing. He could pick out a heart beat about half a mile away if necessary. And so it was no hardship to make out the panting of three other people finding their way to the top of the hill from the opposite side.

Now it wouldn't be long until the meeting. Stopping in his tracks, Harry decided that here would be the perfect spot for waiting. He was still in the wood though only a short distance form the area where it was thinning out. Moving up a tree in fluid motions that were almost too fast to be followed with the naked eye he settled down on a branch in a deep crouch. From there he could easily observe the whole scene.

Now the three people were already close enough to be noticed by Snape. They didn't have any additional source of light with them, though this could be attributed to their familiarity with their surrounding. They were shaking hands and whispering, their voices nevertheless travelling far through the cloudless night air. It was a good thing that Harry spoke fluently French by now.

'Severus Snape?' one of the people asked.

'Yes,' the Potions Professor answered, while lowering his wand as not to appear in a threatening manner.

'I will cast a truth spell, so that we can be sure of your good intentions. Is this ok with you?' the same man went on.

Snape just nodded, only wincing a little as the magic was coursed through him. 'Are you Claude Mieusset?' he finally queried.

'That would be me,' came the reply from one of the wizards who had kept to the back so far. Stepping forward he lifted the hood from his face, revealing a surprisingly young face. He couldn't be more than 25 years and he was already the leader of an underground organisation?

Well, I am one to talk! Harry chuckled at himself. If Snape had any doubts about the archon he didn't show them.

'I have come to negotiate a treaty of cooperation. You could benefit from our resources while helping us with some tasks that will have to be carried out soon and in silence. I trust I can rely on your discretion.' Snape didn't seem to have lost his flair for dramatics.

Paying closer attention to the Claw of the Lion's operatives Harry tried to assess their abilities. From the way they moved all three of them were fighters, though he'd bet his Firebolt that Claude could wipe the floor with the other two. Harry decided that he liked that man. He could never respect those supposedly leaders who were talking in big words but couldn't pull their own weight when push came to pull.

He was also fairly sure that the one who had talked at first could be trusted. He had arrived with his face uncovered, allowing his opposite to study him. And there had been no change in the rate of his heart beat while he was speaking, so passing his internal lie detector.

As Harry concentrated on the third of the trio he felt his hackles rise. He was sweating profoundly despite the cold breeze turning the spring night outright chilly. And he smelled like fear. There was definitely something fishy about that guy.

Straining all of his senses to his limits he started to scan the surrounding. But he couldn't detect anything out of the normal. Just the usual hooting of owls or crawling of tiny feet, the rustling of leaves and chirping of crickets. There was no strange movement or light. Perhaps the man was only afraid of Snape, he could get downright scary if he wanted to. Although this wouldn't throw a good light on the agent's braveness.

Suddenly Harry was startled by the sound of several pops, as if the air itself had been displaced. Almost like someone who had APPERATED? Oh, shit.

In the next moment all hell broke loose. From every side dark figures darted out of the wood, launching curses at the people in the clearing. There was a cry of surprise followed by a thud as the one who had spoken first went down. The others had been able to erect shields in time to avoid being hit.

'Charles, how is this possible? We have put up anti-apperition wards! You yourself controlled them this afternoon,', Claude yelled. He and Snape were standing back to back, sending out spells of their own. But their attackers were well protected, only one of them had fallen so far to a Pertificus Totalus cast by the Portions Professor. The two tried to back up but they were being circled. There simply was no room to manoeuvre for them any more.

'Well yes, I controlled them and they were in perfect order. At least until the time I left. I fear afterwards they were disabled. Avada Kedavra!' with that the third man attacked his leader.

There was an expression of utter disbelieve on Claude's face as the curse hit home, throwing him to the ground withering in the throws of death.

Snape realizing that he was on his own made a full 360 degrees turn. He was surrounded and completely outnumbered. There were at least 8 of them!

'Give it up, traitor. Hand over your wand and come with us. So you will put off the pain at least for a little while. We don't care about hurting you or not. Our Lord only ordered us to get you to him alive,' one of the Death Eaters hissed at him.

Still sitting in the tree Harry had watched the disaster play out, dread turning his stomach into an icicle. They had been betrayed! And he couldn't interfere, not with his magical powers gone. But he couldn't stay here and leave Snape to his fate either. There was no chance for the man to get out of this alive without help. Fear gripped his heart.

Damn! Damn! Damn! He had to do something. Though if he went in there he couldn't leave any witnesses. Voldemort learning about THIS was no option, which meant he had to kill them all. Every single one of them.

Oh, Merlin, help me! Harry prayed but there was no answer. It was his decision. Snape or the Death Eaters. 1 against 8. The feeling of numbness spread from his stomach into the rest of his body.

Swallowing once he stood up. There was no decision to be made at all. It had been done a long time ago. Looking up at the moon he clenched his hands into fists. This is going to hurt, he thought.

AN: Did you like/hate it so far? Are you interested in more? Tell me please!


	8. chapter8

Chapter 8: Death Eaters

Severus Snape knew that he was in deep trouble as the ring of Death Eaters closed around him. He had already tried Apparating away. But it seemed that Voldemort's lackeys actually had some kind of brain left because they had risen the anti-Apparition wards again after their arrival.

The Potions Master registered their threats only peripherally, not deeming them necessary to listen to. He had heard all of those before, not a few times out of his own mouth. Instead he kept in constant motion, turning around in order to keep track of his opponents. But there were just too many of them! The odds of escaping were neigh to impossible. And surrendering was out of question. He knew for a fact that _a fate worse than death_ was more than a mere proverb.

Severus felt a minor curse brush against his shield, sending a jolt through his body. It held, though its strength was now diminished to half of what it had been at the beginning of the fight. It was only a question of time before it would fall under the combined might of the Death Eaters. Nevertheless he sent a quick thank you to the Founders for it being still intact.

His robes were drenched in sweat and he risked a quick swipe with his hand over his temple to prevent the tiny droplets of salt water from dripping into his eyes. It wouldn't do to be blinded in a crucial moment. Though he couldn't say which moment to come was not crucial.

Severus' breathing was laboured and he felt exhaustion seep into his bones. It wouldn't be too long now until he missed a counter. The adrenaline rush that had kept him going so far was ebbing off, leaving him weary. It was all he could do to prevent his hands from shaking. In addition to the strain on his body there was also the constant drain on his magical reserves. The more they were depleted the greater his terror became.

And terror it was. Severus had passed beyond fear. Because fear was what he felt when he went to one of the meetings as a spy, fear of what would happen if he made a mistake. Most, hell, all of the people who knew him wouldn't think him capable of that emotion. But it was there, almost constantly, he was just good at hiding and controlling it, at using it for his own purposes. Though this time horror gripped his heart, blanking his mind from finding a way to escape.

Severus registered another curse hit the periphery of his shield. But instead of being deflected, it was only slowed down, though not enough for him to prevent it from finding its mark. Pure agony shot up his right leg. It felt like being on fire, heat eating away his skin, burning muscles right down to the bones.

Losing his balance he went down, narrowly missing another curse aimed at his chest. As his hands touched the ground he knew that it was over. Though he was still far away from giving up, desperation driving him on. Using the momentum of his fall he curled himself up into a ball, rolling over the ground until he was back on his feet. Favouring his injured limb, he rested most of his weight on his left side. Gritting his teeth he started sending out one spell after the other. Now that his defence was gone – there was just no time for recasting the shielding, which would take precious seconds – he had to fire away, hoping to intercept oncoming hexes with his attacks.

Out of the corner of his eyes Severus saw a shadow moving at the brink of the wood but his brain was too occupied to process the sensory input. Not daring to stand still he danced across the clearing, though his movements were becoming slower and less coordinated by the minute. He was bleeding form several wounds now and his left arm was hanging uselessly by his side.

His view was narrowing down, blackness moving in from the edges of his vision. Still Severus was desperately clutching his wand. The noises around him dimmed as the rush of blood in his ears grew louder. From far away he heard a scream and was wondering if one of his curses had hit home, though he didn't dare to dwell on it. He had to keep moving. But it was hard, so very hard not to give in to exhaustion and lay down.

His eyes were already playing tricks on him, he thought. There couldn't be a giant with the death eaters. Though the shape of a huge being, much bigger than a muggle or wizard, moving amongst them was persistent. He didn't dare shake his head in order to chase away the apparition. Severus couldn't afford the distraction.

It seemed to him an eternity of casting spells without a break had passed and it astounded him that he wasn't caught yet. Readying another curse he paused as there was no immediate target in sight. From far away he noticed the deafening silence that hung in the clearing. The Potions Master stopped in his tracks and listened. But all he could hear was his own ragged breathing. Was he dead? Blinking a few times he looked around. There was no one, at least not standing. The area was littered with bodies covered in blood and clad in the shredded remains of black robes. All dead. No one could live with their intestines strewn around or their throats ripped open. He counted them. There were eight.

But how? This was too surreal and he was too tired to contemplate. The last of his strength left his body and he slowly fell down on his knees, his palms coming to rest on the ground before him. The grass was damp of dew, he noted dimly. Severus was breathing heavily, pumping much needed oxygen into his aching lungs. He still couldn't believe that the fight was over nor that he was free. Someone must have helped him and he knew that he should get up and investigate. Being an enemy of his enemy didn't necessarily equal a friend. But his traitorous body was not cooperating. Sighing inwardly he finally conceded to his corporal needs. Rolling over on his back he slipped into a light meditative trance. It would allow him to regain enough energy without losing too much time.

Concentrating on the clear starlit sky he blanked his thoughts and dimmed his senses to the point where only a direct threat would bring him back. Another advantage was that the pain, that throbbed dully through his whole body, was diminished greatly. Severus had learnt this practise very early in his life as a mean of survival.

Severus Snape's mother had become very sick during her pregnancy and hadn't really recovered after the boy's birth. She had still lived for a few years afterwards but only as a shell of her former self, which was what he had been told later. Nevertheless some of his fondest - if a little hazy - memories dated back to those times. Although being almost constantly in pain and bedridden she'd always had a smile for her son or a song for when he couldn't sleep.

It was after her death that Severus' life had turned into a nightmare. His father who'd been mostly indifferent towards him so far, fell into a severe depression and started drinking. He made his son responsible for his wife's death and took all the fury over his impotence out on the little boy. He lashed out with words and fists intent on hurting. The man sank deeper and deeper into madness, cruelty defining his personality more and more. And so it was no wonder that he joined up with Voldemort as soon as the Dark Lord rose in power.

Little Severus at first wilted away under the gruesome treatment by his only parent left. Though even in his tender years he was a fighter and he soon managed to cope. He devised ingenuous plans to stay out of the man's – he refused to call him father any longer – way and learnt to handle the pain if those failed. He not only built up his corporal endurance, but also his mental shields. Training his wit fell into his need-to-stay-alive category, as well as acting.

All in all Severus Snape grew up hard and fast, with one principle accompanying him through everything: never ever becoming his sire, which was also one of the main reason he had become a spy.

The Potions Master slowly resurfaced from his trance, his thoughts coming back in a tumble, leaving him in a state of confusion. Wading through his memories of the last few hours he managed to piece together where he was and what his immediate plan of action contained, as well as time being crucial.

Sitting up Severus couldn't suppress a groan. Although he now had enough energy to function again, his whole world consisted of pain. Gritting his teeth together he managed to get to his feet. A quick survey of the clearing reassured him that he was the only one standing.

Next he inspected the bodies to make sure that they had all really moved on to the next plane of existence – hell - he hoped. It was a task that threatened his dinner's position in his stomach, which was saying a lot concerning his past among the Death Eater. He had seen people raped, killed and tortured to the point of madness. But nothing compared to the sight before him. The way they had been disembowelled spoke more of a wild animal than a man. If he went close enough he could even see claw tracks and the throats seemed to have been bitten through by large canines. Perhaps he hadn't imagined the giant shadow earlier during the fight. But which animal was that large and would cause so much destruction?

Well, it was a fool moon, so it could have been a werewolf, Severus thought. But they didn't have claws as long as the gashes indicated, and they wouldn't have stopped with killing the Death Eaters. It had to be something sentient. An animagus? That was a possibility. But speculations weren't bringing him any further.

Checking the ground, he found evidence of the fight: trampled grass, holes of curses gone awry and splatters of blood. There was no use of trying to analyse any further at the moment, he admitted to himself, frustrated. The light cast by the stars and the moon wasn't enough to make out a lot and he could only brighten his immediate surrounding with Lumos. It would take an eternity to search the whole clearing like that. The best would be to head home and leave the clean up and investigation to the authorities, although it went clearly against his professional pride.

Dismayed Severus let his gaze wander over the scene of battle for a last time without detecting anything suspicious. There was no real reason to remain here any longer. Still, he felt an unexplainable reluctance to leave, as if something important was close by waiting to be found.

Nonsense, the Potions Master sneered at himself. You're deluding yourself. Whatever has been here is long gone. And since when did you let your emotions get the better of you? You're not a Gryffindor!

Pushing his gut-feeling aside he swerved around into the direction he had come from. Though before he could enter the wood a twinkling in the grass before him caught his attention. As he got closer he recognized it as a tiny metallic object reflecting the light of the moon. He bent down and picked it up. It was a small spiral made of silver, probably some kind of jewellery. It didn't seem too important to Severus. One of the Death Eaters must have lost it. But he'd keep it for now.

As he slid his finding into a hidden pocket of his robe his eyes came to rest on a spot on the ground. It showed a footprint similar to one of a human being - if they'd had shoe size 50 which none of the Death Eaters had. So it had to originate from his mysterious saviour. Bending over he scrutinized it closely without much success. He couldn't think of any animal nor magical being that would leave such tracks. It came close to a giant's but was too small for it. A half-giant was out as well because the being must have moved very quickly to eliminate all of his enemies, something you couldn't associate with the notoriously slow half-breed. At least he could be sure now that his werewolf-theory was wrong and that the animagus one was highly unlikely.

As he expanded his search in diameter Severus found other footprints leading away from the fighting-scene into the wood and deducted that this was where his rescuer had vanished. And he had been hurt because following the trail was a line of blood.

Curiosity was warring with common sense in the Potions Master's mind as he thought about chasing after the being. It was quite powerful, enough to go up against 8 wizards and win, so he alone was no match for it, especially now in his weakened state. But if it had wanted him dead it could have killed him already. Pertaining that it was sentient and his survival wasn't pure luck. It was also insured and a potential ally against Voldemort, which was a really good incentive.

Making up his mind he moved past the first trees, his eyes glued to the ground. The being had left visible dents in the soft needle covered earth. They were much deeper than the ones he left, which were barley visible. It must be really heavy, Severus thought.

The further the Potions Master got the more red he could see. It didn't bode well. Had it been hurt that badly? He felt guilt gnawing at his insides. It was him the Death Eaters had been after. Now two of his contacts were dead and the one who'd rescued him . . . No, he wasn't going to go there.

Severus frowned as he came across a fallen tree trunk. There was a bloody hand-print on it and traces of a stumble. He just hoped that the creature was alive. It wouldn't do to have gone through all this trouble to find it dead.

He pushed on, quickening his pace until the trail suddenly ended in a stone. Though it wasn't a stone at all Severus noted as he came closer. It was the shape of an enormous human being slumped on the ground motionless, though its complexion belied it being one of them. The creature's skin was a dark blue, stretching over taut, well-defined muscles. It was clad only in jeans, though they were ripped open at the seams, as if the wearer had had a sudden growth-spurt. With relief Severus noted the steady rise and fall of broad shoulders, indicating that it was still breathing. He couldn't see its face as it was lying on the side with its back towards him, only a nest of a tangled black mane.

Slowly Severus crept closer, making sure to cause enough noise as to not startle the creature if it was still conscious. Then he had reached it. Carefully he extended his right hand, letting it hover over the prone figure for a few seconds before finally touching it. It felt smooth and warm. He tucked a little, rolling it over on his back. There was a large gash on his abdomen which was the cause of all the bleeding. But it was already stocking and he could swear that the wound was closing. Nothing life-threatening, thank Merlin! It must be a really fast healer, he thought.

Its mouth was slightly open and he could make out elongated incisors. The features of the face seemed oddly familiar but he couldn't place them at the moment. Its eye-lids were fluttering and Severus almost jumped in surprise as they flew open. The sight startled him more than anything else among the creature because it was its most inhumane feature as far as he could tell. There was no iris, nor a pupil, just two onyx orbs with not even a speck of white in them.

Their gazes met and he caught himself holding his breath, the intensity sending chills running down his spine. As suddenly as it had started the moment was interrupted by a spasm raking through his opposite's body.

Severus drew back, not knowing what to do. Another seizure followed the first eliciting an inhuman howl of pain. Then something under its skin began to move, seeming as if muscles and bones were rearranging themselves, changing positions out of their own volition. And through it all its body was shrinking, losing great amounts of mass as he was watching transfixed. And with those went the unnatural blue, leaving an ordinary human being. One that he knew all too well. Impossible.

A/N.: It's a cliffhanger again. Sorry for taking so long but I've been gone on a summer school/congress thingie and there's awfully lot to do at university.

Thanks a lot to Ravensblack, Nimohtar, ann and biblios for their very encouraging feedback

Harry's a Lycan, but not just one . . . Does this make sense?

At the moment I am not planning for an Underworld character to appear in the story apart from being mentioned by name and in the past.

I have the general plotline worked out but there are still parts that are vague at best, so if anyone has preferences, tell me!

I am also looking for a beta. My sister is doing me the honour so far but neither her nor me are native English speakers, so you see my problem. Anyone interested?


	9. chapter9

Chapter 9

Resurrection

**Summary: **When dead people come alive.

A/N: Thank you guys for the great reviews! You are keeping an author alive.

Most of your questions will be answered in this chapter, so I won't tell you anything beforehand to keep up the suspense. I am evil, ne?

Just, you don't need to know anything about Underworld to understand this story. It's a movie about war between werewolves and vampires. I have only borrowed a few ideas which will be explained.

The relationship between Harry and Severus is going to be built up anew as they have changed over the time spent apart.

I am sorry that it has taken so long but I have had this huge writer's block and university is killing me. I have to finish the written part of my diploma within the next four weeks and the final exam is in about 2 months. I am already shaking in my boots here.

Now, on with the story:

Staring unbelievingly at the apparition before him, Severus Snape had to pinch himself to make sure he was not dreaming. But the pain together with the persistent visual – even after blinking several times – finally convinced him of the person in front of him being real. It was the same he had seen at the market, the one who had looked so much like Harry Potter and whom he had told himself again and again was an invention of his overactive imagination.

Sliding closer, Severus studied the man in detail. He was not very tall with a slender, but lean figure. His gaze involuntarily lingered a bit on the bare, hairless chest and he couldn't help but watch the muscles ripple each time a breath was drawn or exhaled. It sent a shudder through his body and he hastened on, not yet ready to deal with the implications of his reaction. The face was exactly what he had envisioned Harry to look like if he had not died four years ago – minus the scar. Full red lips that were slightly parted, finely chiselled features with high cheekbones, framed by black strands of hair. Was it really him? But how could that be? And what had happened?

A groan caught Severus' attention and he saw the man's eyes – they had been shut tightly during the transformation - fly open giving him a good view: vivid green. At that moment Snape knew for certain. How many times had he stared into those orbs under the guise of hatred and contempt? Too often to not having learnt about the soul hiding behind. And it was the same, though now clearly older, more experienced and laden with shadows of darkness that hadn't been there before.

Seconds passed until the other finally focused on him. And Severus watched, waiting for signs to confirm what his heart was already sure of. There was surprise followed by fear and a soft moan escaped him, hardly loud enough to be heard but the Potions Master was paying attention: 'Severus.'

'Potter,' he replied in recognition falling back into his old habit of nonchalance, his sight never wavering for even an inch. He watched as the other manoeuvred himself painfully into a sitting position, quickly overcoming the urge to help. As Harry had finally managed to lean against the tree trunk, Severus raised an eyebrow in question. He had no intention of being the first to talk. It wasn't him that had come suddenly back from the world of the dead, just in time to save his life. Nope, it was definitely not him who knew what was going on.

'Damn, that was not supposed to happen. Stupid Dumbledore, stupid McGonagall,' Harry mumbled under his breath. Aloud he added, 'You won't believe me if I tell you that you dreamt the whole thing and that I am not really here, will you?' He attempted a grin that morphed into a grimace of pain, one hand involuntarily moving down to the wound on his abdomen. With interest Severus noted that it had stopped bleeding completely and was beginning to scar over.

'Not likely,' the Potions Master answered, trying to keep his voice clear of emotions.

'It was too much to hope for,' the younger man sighed. 'You want an explanation, I take it.'

Not deeming the statement worth an answer Severus inclined his head willing him to talk on.

'Okay, I think you deserve one. But where to start?' Harry's eyes glazed over as he sank down into memory a bitter smile on his face. Severus' mind itself wandered back to four years ago. He saw the graveyard and the small group of mourners as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. It had been a rainy day and only the people closest to Harry had been invited, knowing that Harry had never liked his fame. There had been the Weasleys, Granger, a few others of his year-mates and some of the teachers. He hadn't seen any of the boy's remaining family. There had not been long speeches of praise, no recounting of all his brave deeds, just words of good-bye to a friend, an adopted son, a pupil.

'Well, best thing at the beginning: the day I died.' Severus almost jumped as he was thrown back into the present. 'It wasn't an act, you know. The poison really killed me. I just didn't stay dead for long.' Harry paused, collecting his thoughts.

'I can't remember much of what happed after I drank that poisoned bottle of butterbeer in the Three Broomsticks. The pain started immediately and it was almost as bad as being hit by the Cruciatus curse. I wasn't aware of being brought back to Hogwarts or the hospital wing. The next thing I noticed was something being poured down my throat. It must gave been a pain killer because afterwards I was able to think again, at least a little.'

Severus nodded. It had been him to administer the potion, although it was only a weak one that was unlikely to have any cross effects with the poison.

'I knew that something was really wrong because everyone looked at me sadly. They seemed afraid and nobody wanted to talk about my condition. It was actually you who convinced me I was going to die.'

There was a slight smile on Harry's face as he looked at Severus expectantly. Playing into his game the man tilted his head in question.

'Your eyes. I saw it in your eyes. They were full of pity and something else I couldn't place. There was just no way you would show these emotions if I had a sore stomach or something as trivial. I wasn't frightened, you know, even a bit relieved that the fighting was finally over for me. I knew that I would die eventually, I only regretted that I wouldn't be able to take Voldemort with me. I was actually looking forward to seeing my parents again.'

Severus was shocked and glad that he wasn't supposed to speak at the moment. He wasn't sure his voice would be stable. Harry had wanted to die? How could that be? He had always seemed to be happy with his friends! Well, there had been the time after Sirius' death but starting seventh year the boy had been back to normal. At least outwardly, the Potions Master conceded to himself.

'It was time to say goodbye. I was okay when the teachers, the twins, Ginny and Ron left. But then it was Hermione's turn. Her eyes were full of tears and somehow I felt guilty that I would leave her and everyone else behind with the burden to destroy Voldemort. And as she asked me if I was willing to live even if it would cost me, I said yes, not comprehending what she meant. She left and the pain returned throwing me into a world of blackness. The only thing I can recall form there on up until my death was the presence of someone keeping vigil over me and telling me things I didn't understand but glad to hear the voice.'

Severus Snape watched him closely as he paused in his narration, enthralled by the story. It seemed to bring the past alive, so much feeling was being conveyed through his words. He could practically live what had happened then.

'The next I knew was waking up in darkness, no longer feeling pain but a hunger that seemed to eat away at my soul. Never before had I been starved like that although I had gone days without food at the Dursley's. There was someone beside me. I couldn't see them but I heard their heart beat. Do you want to live? a voice asked and I remember thinking, what a stupid question. What did I care if I lived? I just wanted the hunger to stop! But I was too weak to move and so I only nodded, not really knowing what I was doing. There was a noise of sucking and then a smell, sweeter than anything else, drifted to my nose. I was lifted and a wrist held before my face. It was bleeding. Instinctively I grabbed it and started sucking. I can't describe the way it tasted, there are no words for it. Think of the best thing you have ever eaten and multiply it with thousand. You won't get close.'

There was a dreamy expression on Harry's face and Severus knew he was savouring the memory like a long lost treasure. Not daring to startle the young man out of his reverie the Potions Master waited patiently for him to resurface.

'It seemed an eternity before the hunger was sated and the hand drew back. For a few seconds I was in heaven, before the pain crashed back in. It was worse than before. Worse than the Cruciatus. My whole body spasmed with each wave of agony that rocked through my being. I must have bitten through my lips with the effort of trying to stifle my screams, without success. I really hope no one else heard me, they must have had nightmares from it. Time didn't seem to exist. But when it was over I was exhausted beyond bodily fatigue. I fell asleep immediately.'

Severus shuddered. He knew that Harry was not prone to snivelling, experiences during Quidditch matches told him as much. To hear him describing the amount of pain he had had to go through was, to say the least, disturbing.

'When I came to my senses, there was still a feeling of the lingering stress my body had had to go through but it was bearable, just as the hunger that was again burning a hole into my stomach. I sat up and looked around. The room was still dark but I could see nonetheless, without my glasses and I recognized the surrounding. I was in the Shrieking Shack, alone. Though I felt a presence nearby. I couldn't tell how exactly I was sure that the person was male and waiting in the night just outside the rundown erstwhile manor. Nor could I explain how I suddenly knew that a couple of ravens were sleeping on the roof or a cat was sitting outside in a tree. My senses were sending impressions to my brain I didn't think were possible for a human being. I felt as if I had been blind for all of my life and had just been given the gift to see. I stood up and walked out towards the man, stopping beside him. He didn't look at me but stared into the forest surrounding us. Finally he spoke and I recognized his voice from before, The night is full of wonders, is it not?

I could only nod, too engrossed in the new world that had opened up to me, not unlike six years ago as I had been introduced into the wizarding world. We stood there for a long time before he turned to me and said, You surely want to know what happened, breaking the magic of the moment with it.'

In the pause that followed these words Severus Snape inhaled deeply, not having noticed that he had held his breath. What had happened? It sounded distantly like being turned into a vampire but he had not heard of it being this painful nor that it was connected to such a raise in sensual powers. Luckily, it was not long before Harry continued.

'We went back into the Shack and after we had settled down, the questions seemed to tumble out of my mouth, Who are you? What did you do? What am I now? He just grinned at me and answered calmly, Name's Michael Corvin. I repaid a debt to a friend and you are a hybrid, half vampire, half werewolf, same as I. The rest is history.' With that Harry leaned back, making no sign as to go on.

Severus Snape stared at him incredulously. History? He had to be joking! Now as the interesting part was starting! 'What!' finally escaped his lips.

Harry looked up at him, mirth in his eyes. 'It would take too long to tell you everything that happened the last few years and there are some things you definitely don't have to know, so ask and perhaps I'll tell you.'

The mongrel had done it deliberately! Severus fumed. He would have to beg to hear the rest. He hated begging. He never did it. But he was curious. So he decided on the next best thing. Talking back. 'There are no vampire/werewolf hybrids.'

He was met with a raised eyebrow.

'And even if there were, they'd be strong enough not the need help. So why a debt to be repaid?'

Again a raised eyebrow. He scowled. Yes, they were lame arguments but he was not going farther into the direction of begging. He had a pride to uphold.

Seemingly his opposite knew that he had pulled Severus' stings as far as he could, because he went on, 'Well, you are right in that there are no magical vampire/werewolf hybrids. But there are Muggle ones. One of them at least. You see, as the Muggles are not aware of the wizarding world neither they nor we are aware of the secret vampire and werewolf society that has developed apart from the wizarding one. And they don't know about us either. It was pure chance that Hermione met Michael as she went to Hungary to visit Victor Krum.

There was a war between vampires and werewolves going on and it had culminated in the creation of a hybrid, Michael Corvin, who was quite strong and nearly impossible to kill. Neither side was happy about him coming into being and hooking up with a rogue vampire and so they went into hiding. Though they were discovered, of which Hermione had the fortune to witness. She helped them escape, learned their story and had from thereon a hybrid in her debt, which she kept to herself till the day I died.'

Deep in thought, Severus forgot his intention of not asking questions, 'Who else…'

He was interrupted by Harry raising his hand, bidding him to be quiet. Watching the other intently he noticed that the wound on his belly had healed during their conversation, leaving only a scar and dried blood.

'Someone's coming.'

A/N: I know, it's a cliffhanger again. Don't kill me!

b biblios /b I'd really like for you to beta my story, do you have an e-mail address where I could reach you?


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